


The Key to My Heart

by orphan_account



Category: The Who (Band)
Genre: 1960s, F/M, Meet-Cute, The Who AU, The Who Fic, mods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 21:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Teenaged Keith Moon takes a liking to a girl he's seen on the subway.
Relationships: Keith Moon & John Entwistle, Keith Moon & Pete Townshend, Keith Moon & Roger Daltrey, Keith Moon/Reader, Keith Moon/You
Kudos: 10





	The Key to My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Short updates will be the name of this game. Don't really have much of an outline or plot here, but we'll see where it goes!

“Go on, talk to ‘er!” A high-pitched whisper came from the huddle of young men standing together at the back of the tube car. You glanced towards the group out of the corner of your eye, and they all averted their gaze, pretending not to have been staring in your direction for the last quarter of an hour. Two of the boys had gone to the same grammar school as you several years before, and the other two you recognized as members of the R&B band that played at the Marquee twice a week, of which your former classmates were also members.

“Shut it, Pete, she’ll hear you” hissed the youngest amongst them, a brown-haired, dark-eyed boy of 17 or 18. One of the other fellows smirked and gave the teen’s shoulder an encouraging shake. Adjusting your miniskirt over your crossed legs with one hand, you shifted in your seat and hid your smile behind your folded-over copy of _The Times_. The attention you were being paid wasn’t unwelcome - even from a boy like Keith Moon, who you had heard was quite the wild child. He was cute, and was rumoured to be a good dancer; what could be the harm in letting him flirt with you from afar? 

“She gets off at the next stop, so if you don’t ask for her number now, you’ll have to wait until next week,” chimed in the shortest of the four. “And you’ve got to do it yourself. John and I have got girlfriends already, so there’s no sense in us chatting ‘er up.” With a defeated sigh, Keith left his friends and slipped through the throng of standing passengers between you. You stared intensely at the paper in front of you, but saw only black squiggles instead of words. 

“Excuse me, Miss,” the young man said, clearing his throat as he stopped in front of you. He tapped the top of your newspaper, and a boyish grin crossed his face. 

“Yes?” you asked politely, looking up at Keith over the rims of your spectacles. Almost as an afterthought, you pouted your cherry-red lips, hoping your expression came off as coy and vaguely interested instead of overly-eager. 

“Your paper’s upside-down,” Keith observed, his eyes sparkling with silent laughter. He was right, of course; you’d been so distracted by the whispers of the drummer and his friends that you hadn’t paid a lick of attention to your paper (or the direction you’d been holding it). Flustered, you shoved it into the bookbag resting atop your shoes and abruptly stood up, deciding that a quick retreat towards the door of the car was the only way to rectify your embarrassment. 

“Excuse me,” you apologized, lurching past the teen and stepping on the toe of his shoe in the process. He stifled a pained shout; the sharp heel of your pump had nearly impaled the leather covering his foot. Thankfully, the tube slowed to a halt as you fought past standing commuters; the familiar sight of Acton Town Station through the windows was a relief. 

A shout came from the group of young men at the back of the car as you stepped out, and it wasn’t until the tube pulled away from the station that you realized the reason for the sudden uproar: Keith Moon stood on the platform beside you, his hands tucked innocently into the pockets of his trousers. 

“What the--” Your eyebrows furrowed, and your mouth hung open in surprise; ‘most unladylike’, your mother would most certainly have said had she been there to see you. 

“Would you mind terribly if I walked you home?” Keith asked, biting his lip hesitantly. “I, uh, got off a few stops early, and I haven’t got anywhere else to be. So...” 

Before you could stop yourself, you heard yourself blurt out, “Sure!” Keith smiled brightly, pleased by your answer. 

“So then, where to?” 

* * * * * 

The bed groaned loudly as you pitched yourself forward and fell upon your mattress in a heap. Your head was spinning, and you were certain that if you looked in the mirror, there would be hearts in place of your eyes. Keith Moon, who had been surprisingly sweet and gentleman-like on the walk from the tube station to your house, had dazzled you with his humour and good manners. 

From the start, he’d offered to carry your bookbag, which must have weighed two stone with all the textbooks you’d been dragging around that day. Though at first you assured him that you could handle the load, it wasn’t long before Keith had stopped you and slid the straps from your shoulders, insisting that you’d contract scoliosis if you didn’t let him help you. 

“I don’t think you can ‘contract’ scoliosis, like it were measles or chickenpox,” you had laughed, “but if you really want to carry it, I’m sure my back would appreciate it.” 

The walk had consisted of a bit of awkward small-talk - “isn’t this breeze lovely”, and such - a plethora of sideways glances on both your parts, and the occasional joke from Keith about your neighbourhood. Apparently, the friends he’d been on the train with lived in nearby Shepherd’s Bush, so he was familiar enough with the area. 

When the two of you had reached the plain brownstone house you called home, Keith returned your bag, and waited patiently while you scribbled your phone number across the back of a crumpled business card he had floating around in his wallet. As he slipped his wallet back into the pocket of his trousers, your mother appeared at the front door and called out to you, surprising you both. 

“See you ‘round, then,” Keith had mumbled, suddenly shy, before heading back towards the tube station. Before you could say goodbye, a small metallic _ping_ rang out, distracting you momentarily. 

“Wait!” you had called after the retreating figure. Bending down, you retrieved from the pavement a curious-looking bit of metal. “Keith, wait, I think you’ve dropped your--” You paused and regarded the object with confusion. _I haven’t got any idea what this is, actually_, you realized. Your mother ordered you in for tea, so you were forced to pocket your strange find and head inside. 

Now you lay on your bed, examining the bit of metal Keith Moon had lost in the street. It rang no bells in your mind in terms of what it was used for, or what it might have fallen off. Perhaps it was a bit of something from beneath the hood of a car - you didn’t know a thing about automobile mechanics, but thought a boy Keith’s age might - or maybe something used to fix a bicycle tyre. There was no way you could ask your father, because he would want to know where you’d found it. The only solution was to ask Keith himself, you decided. The only trouble was that he had your number, and knew where you lived, but you had no way to get ahold of _him_. 

_I suppose I’ll just have to wait patiently,_ you shrugged, placing the metal thingamajig on the little table beside your bed. And wait patiently you would, because for the next three days, you didn’t hear a word from the dark-eyed boy who had insisted upon walking you home.

**Author's Note:**

> If you can guess what Keith dropped, name it in the comments below! ;)


End file.
